


I Loved You First

by saintlyterritory



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Non-Canon Events, Nothing overly explicit, Pre-Canon, i must be the single nero/barbero shipper in this fandom but that's okay, no mention of angelo, not really canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2020-07-25 22:38:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20033503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintlyterritory/pseuds/saintlyterritory
Summary: First love is painful, but sometimes it is beautiful.





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> it's been 3 years and i finally have to accept i need to be the one to put out the barbero/nero content i want to see in the world. also this is the first fic i'm posting in many years so i'm kind of nervous.

Barbero is seventeen and lankier than the other boys. He rarely has an appetite these days, even when Nero invites him to have dinner. Especially when Nero invites him to have dinner. It's nothing unusual, really. Vanno would be there. And Frate… if Frate decides to venture out of his room when he isn't having a teenage crisis. Usually all attempts at communication end with a slam of a door, and Fio shakes her head, "_That age_…"

But Fio is not much older, and Barbero and Nero and Vanno are not much older still. But when they all have dinner and Nero talks about the girls he's been with, sometimes Barbero forgets that they are still teenagers themselves. He looks at his own skinny legs, all bones and no warmth. Unlike the girls who drip like honey and softness that Nero likes so much. 

"Come out to town with us," Nero smiles as he slings an arm around Barbero's shoulders. "You're missing all the fun!"

But Barbero's heart clenches, so he shakes his head, "I have things to do."

Nero pouts, "You _always_ have things to do, and you _never_ have anything to show for it. What is it? Are you busy thinking about someone while no one else is home?" He says with a wink.

Barbero blushes furiously, hoping that his pounding heart does not give him away.

It is midnight and Nero and Vanno would be returning in two hours. They always do. So Barbero finally finds the right time to put out the lights in his room. 

It isn't so hard to start. Undressing carefully, he lets his clothes fall to the ground. He stares into the dark room, Nero would be sitting on the bed, looking at him with hunger. He would hold out his hand, and Barbero would reach out and take it, allowing himself to be pulled into Nero's warm embrace. 

Barbero walks quietly to the bed. It's easier when his glasses are off, and his lack of vision is another defense against reality, coupled with the darkness. A pointy knee sinks softly into the mattress. When he is sure he didn't make too much noise, he climbs on totally. His frame hovers over the sheets, where Nero would be looking up at him. His knees are feeling uncomfortable, but that's okay. He brings a hand to one of his nipples and brushes it gently. He arches his back, a soft sigh escaping his lips. As he toys with his nipple, a tongue peeks through his lips. He closes his eyes, despite it being so dark, to see Nero's mouth reaching up towards his own. Barbero would meet him halfway down. 

He trails his hand down, reaching his belly button. The soft trails of hair are mere wisps in comparison to Nero's. The image is enough to send a jolt through his being, and Barbero let's out the barest whisper of Nero's name. 

Barbero's mind allows him to be taken by Nero's ghost hands. Although it is hard to mimic the sensation of Nero's calloused, large hands with his own slim and fresh ones, it is all Barbero has in the darkness. 

_You're all I need, Barbero_.

Barbero is not sure what Nero would say, but he knows what he needs to hear. 

_Only you can make me come undone, Barbero._

Maybe Nero wouldn't even talk. 

His pace quickens as he has Nero kiss his neck in the form of Barbero's own fingers ghosting along his skin with his right hand, and Barbero lets his hips dip down, using the friction of the sheets to aid him along. His right elbow is going numb from keeping his body up while he spills himself onto the sheets with his other hand. 

"_Nero_…" 

He shudders from the release, wasting no time in getting up, getting dressed, and going to his bathroom to rinse the sheets off so they do not stain. 


	2. II.

Barbero turns eighteen with a cake from Fio, a badly wrapped present from Vanno, a nod from Frate, and an invitation from Nero to go on a trip to the beach. Birthdays are strange to Barbero - it is a marker of time; a reminder that things have not changed within him, despite things changing outside him. 

Nero has brought in two new men. Vincent decided it was time for the next Don to build his own group. They seemed okay enough - certainly nothing to raise Barbero's suspicions. They even gave him hastily bought presents from town for his birthday.

"Nero told us it was your birthday, so… here."

"Thank you." He takes the two objects, which turns out to be a set of marbles and a deck of cards. He had seen them in Sal's shop last time he went around there. 

Barbero is in his room when Nero comes knocking. 

"Ready, friend?"

"For what?" 

Nero frowns, his hand clutching his heart, "_For what_? He asks, for our date, of course!"

Barbero's own heart is actually about to burst, but he makes no show of it like Nero. "Oh. To the beach."

"Yes, to the beach! The car is ready. We leave," he checks his watch, "_now_." He moves into the room and grabs some things from the drawers and takes a hold of Barbero's wrist. If Nero notices his pulse quicken, he doesn't let on.

Nero is a good driver. Barbero notices he is the most carefree behind the wheel. Nero is humming _California Here I Come_, and Barbero absentmindedly taps his fingers along.

"Are you having a good birthday?" Nero asks suddenly, which causes Barbero to jump slightly.

"Yes, thank you."

"Come on, don't be so stiff!"

"I'm not."

Nero pouts, and Barbero sighs, making a small decision. "It's nice, now that I'm here." He peers over at Nero, who smiles so radiantly Barbero almost turns away.

"I'm glad." He puts his arm around the back of Barbero's seat and Barbero tries to stop himself from reading into the _what-if's_.

The beach is empty, but the weather is good. There are billowing clouds, and a steady crash of waves. Barbero wants to go in, but remembers he has nothing to wear. Almost as if he read his mind, Nero tosses him some undergarments. 

"They were the first things I grabbed."

Barbero opens up the clothes, "You could have waited for me to bring something."

"It's not as romantic otherwise."

Barbero almost drops what he is holding, but when he looks over at Nero, he is simply setting up a blanket, as if he said nothing at all. Barbero is shaken, but in a good way. Or not. Maybe he misheard. Maybe Nero is just being his best friend and joking around. _Maybe_.

Barbero comes back from the changing shack to find Nero already in his own swim gear.

"Where did you change?"

"Right here." He is smiling again, but a mischievous look is there now.

"They should arrest you for indecency." Barbero places his folded clothes onto the blanket Nero laid out. 

"I'm just giving the world what they want!"

_Too bad I missed it_, is all Barbero thinks. 

Nero takes Barbero's wrist again, and Barbero is beginning to think of his wrist as sacred. 

"Race ya to the water!" But somehow, Nero forgets to let go of Barbero, so the two of them are running through the sand, and Barbero's heart is soaring in the sky. 

Drying off is the worst part. The sand is in the most unmentionable places, and any bit of exposed skin (and otherwise) is stiff from the salt. Barbero is uncomfortable as he and Nero trek back with their stuff. He is also tired. Nero sometimes forgets _some_ people cannot keep up with his more athletic self, and Barbero was bent over wheezing at times. But Nero's hand on his back while checking on him was enough to shock him back to health.

Nero places their bags into the backseat, and pulls out a box. "Happy birthday."

Barbero takes the box, staring dumbly at it.

"It's a present… for you."

"I… know."

"You looked kind of lost."

"You already took me out here."

"So?"

"I kind of thought this was the present."

"I can't get you two things? 'Sides… ain't you supposed to spend money on the ones you love."

"Hm?"

Nero was smiling, but this one looks private. He looks at Barbero, "Open it!"

Barbero does, and inside the box is a set of cufflinks. 

"I just thought, you know, since we're going to be made men and everything… might as well look the part." 

Barbero is staring at Nero, and if the sun wasn't setting behind him, he would swear Nero is blushing.

"Anyway… I hope you had a good time today, Barbero."

"I did… I really did, Nero."

The drive back is quiet, Nero does not whistle. But he does keep his arm around the back of Barbero's seat the whole time.


	3. III.

Barbero understands that things don't always change in big ways. His nineteenth birthday came and went. On his twentieth birthday, one of their men got shot. Business as usual. But he felt the shift in little ways. Nero catching his eye across the room in ways that would send a shiver right through to Barbero's heart, causing his hair standing upright, and sometimes other places too. It would be a brush of their hands as they passed papers to one another.

The day Barbero turns twenty one, he has come to stop expecting anything like their beach trip, but he is okay with that. This lifestyle is not made for what he desires. The enemy sees a weakness, and they take it from you. At least, that is what Barbero tells himself as Nero begins to pull back on whatever it was they were indulging in.

Vanno notices the change in Barbero's mood. "I'll take you out!" Vanno has slung an arm around Barbero's much slimmer frame.

"No, thank you." Barbero thanks his friend, and turns away towards his room. His birthday is coming to a close, and he feels a shard hammer into his heart as he realizes the small changes might have just been his mind playing tricks on him.

He hears something in his room. His job requires that heightened sense. He hears the breathing, he hears the creak of the floorboard. He takes out his gun. Nero gave it to him, but he hates the feeling of it in his hands. Placing a hand on the knob, he opens the door slightly, his heart racing. When the tip peeks through the crack, Nero's voice comes from inside.

"Woah! It's just me!"

"Nero?" Barbero quickly puts the gun away, and swings the door open entirely. 

"Come in, and close the door."

Barbero does so, his head is scrambled with what has just happened, but he is not entirely upset at the intrusion. 

"What's wrong?" Is all Barbero says. Or maybe that is all he has to say, because Nero has walked over to him, and is looking him in the eyes.

"My dad-"

"What?" 

Nero drops to his knees, a dry sob raking his body. Barbero is unsure of what to do, but when Nero wraps his arms around Barbero's waist, he is sure his knees would have buckled if Nero wasn't gripping him so hard.

"He's real sick. They doctors said he's dying."

"Vincent? Are you sure?"

Nero does not reply, he only cries, and Barbero thinks this is the answer he was waiting for. Nero is allowing Barbero into this moment, and Barbero understands the bigger shift that has taken place. He cups Nero's head with one hand, strokes his hair with the other, and hopes to God that it wasn't too bold. 

But Nero is calming down, and is this what it means to be the other half of someone?

When he finally stops crying, Nero makes no move to relieve his knees of his position, but he buries his face into Barbero's stomach.

"I'm sorry," Nero's voice is a whisper, and it sounds like it has cracked in half from his crying.

"For what?"

"We didn't spend your birthday together."

"Don't apologize. You were clearly-"

"I mean for the past few years. My dad was asking more and more of me, and I got lost in my work. I'm sorry."

"That can't be helped, you know. This isn't a job that lends itself to vacation days."

"I should have said something, at least."

Barbero considers his options. He picks one, and hopes it does not ruin this. "Yes, you should have."

Nero looks up at Barbero, "Can I make it up to you? Three-fold. Whatever you want to do. Whatever you want _me_ to do."

Barbero is definitely just imagining the _something_ under Nero's words. The whisper that has taken on a new timbre. Barbero is definitely imagining it, but he does not stop himself from tracing along Nero's face. 

Nero leans into his hand, and Barbero feels something shatter inside him, but it is a freedom like he has never felt. He cups Nero's face, and Nero is looking up at him. Barbero had never understood why people fall in love with a color, but in that moment, but he knows his heart belongs to the way Nero's eyes look like the never ending depths of the ocean, or a raging storm. 

His throat is dry, and it almost stops him from saying, "I love you." But he is glad it doesn't.

Nero's pain seems to cracks away, and a goofy smile overtakes his face. "I know."

Barbero drops his hands, his mouth falls open. "You _know_?"

"I've always known."

"But…why…how…what?"

Nero grabs his hands, bringing them back to his face. He kisses both of him, and it feels like a ritual. Nero will be Don one day, but in here, right now, they are making a private pact. "I know because I understand."

Barbero has decided he is done with quietly hoping. "Do you love me, too?"

Nero finally stands up and goes to the doorway. He has not answered, and Barbero thinks he is going to walk out. But he simply turns off the lights, and Barbero also understands. 

"Some things are easier said in the dark," Nero says.

Barbero hears the creaks of the floorboard as Nero moves back to his side. His hand is taken, and Nero brings them to the bed. Barbero feels like this is suddenly not happening, and he is afraid this is the ghost Nero of his imagination. But nothing is fake about the messy way Nero kisses him, and nothing is as grounding as the way Barbero's slim hands are finally not the ones taking his clothes off. 

Nero stops, suddenly, leaving Barbero cold. "Is this… okay?" Nero's voice is timid for the first time since Barbero has known him.

Barbero nods dumbly, but the room is dark, so he says a simple yes.

Their bodies move together in a way that makes Barbero believe in soul mates. Nero's hot breath sends shivers through Barbero, and his hard and calloused hands are the most gentle thing Barbero has ever felt. When he finally releases, Nero is not far behind. Barbero wonders if Nero will enter him next time, but he understands this first time.

In the darkness, with their limbs in tangles, Barbero is emboldened, so he says, "You never answered."

Nero shifts, pulling Barbero into his sweaty chest. "You were never alone in the feeling."

Nero has given Barbero a lot, and he hears what Nero is saying. He hopes that one day, Nero will be able to say the words back. But Barbero will wait. At least, that is what he tells himself, before Nero drifts to sleep with a mumbled, "I think I always loved you."

Barbero has not taken off the cufflinks Nero gave him on his eighteenth birthday in the three years since he was gifted them. But they feel different the morning after, when Nero is waking up lazily in his bed, and Barbero has already gotten dressed. They feel heavy, but in a way that makes him feel like they are reminding him of a missing piece that has been found. As Nero watches him, his eyes still hazy with sleep, a smile overtakes his face, and Barbero cannot help but be dazzled by it.

Nero pats the bed and when Barbero sits down, Nero kisses him.

Barbero wants to melt back into the bed with him, but he simply says, "Brush your teeth."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished this fic. Thanks for reading, and I'll see you when I write more.


End file.
